


you were never free

by GuiltyPleasuresAndDeadlySins



Category: 6 Underground (2019)
Genre: Character Study, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:49:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22245871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltyPleasuresAndDeadlySins/pseuds/GuiltyPleasuresAndDeadlySins
Summary: But that was the thing, wasn't it? He wasn't from where everyone assumed.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 91





	you were never free

Four _liked_ being dead. For more reasons than the ones he told Seven - backstabbing girlfriends or not, being dead was more freedom than that. Free from expectations, from being the family disappointment. The backstabbing girlfriend came later, almost right at the end before his death. He even liked being Four, the eyes in the sky, getting to run over the rooftops of a new city every other day, and not worry about the consequences. He knew that he irritated the others sometimes, with is constant need to be on the move, or his habit of just _talking_.

He'd irritated his family too. To the point that he'd lost count of the number of exasperated and infuriated admonishments he'd had aimed his way before he'd left.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? He wasn't from where everyone assumed.

He figured that One probably knew the truth of who he actually was, but he'd taken pains to hide that from people less stalkery. And now that he was dead, people cared to look even less.

He was born William Grenville. There were other names in there, but he'd ignored them, even raised in that life, he'd found it pretentious. He was the youngest son of a Baron, youngest child as well, neither the heir, or even really the spare. Two older brothers, and an older sister, all of whom seemed far more suited to life in the peerage than he would ever be. Their parents were, he supposed, kindly enough people, but they were distant, more interested in their society parties, and work in the House of Lords than they were in their hyperactive youngest son. (He might be being too harsh on them there, perhaps they were as disinterested in their other children.)

Their raising was mostly left to nannies and their early schooling to tutors, before they were dispatched to boarding schools for their secondary schooling. And while that was just a different kind of gilded cage, it was also where he learned the thing that became his freedom. 

One of the other boys was the first person to introduce him to first climbing, and then parkour. The two of them were as thick as thieves, clambering over the high parts of their school, and getting in trouble when they were caught. When they started getting into trouble, it had quite the opposite effect from what everyone wanted. It drove them to greater heights - quite literally. Any attention was good when he was used to his parents dismissing him out of hand. The boy was also his first kiss, high on adrenaline, from a narrow escape where they'd just avoided being caught, tumbling back into their shared room, stifling giggles and the whoops they wanted to let out from the exhilaration.

Kissing became further experimentation, first fumbling attempts at being lovers, through their latter years at school. Until that too was discovered. And while their prior antics had been dismissed as youthful high spirits, their parents took a much less open view of their affair. They were both pulled from school, and the loss cut deeper than Four would've imagined. It hurt even more when a month later his friend killed himself.

That, for Four, was the end. He packed what clothes he could, grabbed what money he could manage, and _ran_.

Surviving on his own was a lot harder than he thought. As much as he'd loathed his life, he'd never wanted for anything, and never had to struggle just to eat. But he managed, working until the accent he'd chosen to not stand out was natural, and he didn't slip from it.

And then he met Wren. It wasn't her real name, though she said it was as real a name as any. He'd met her, unsurprisingly, on the roofs, and ended up chasing her, after she slipped his wallet from his pocket and took off with a laugh and a cheeky wink. He caught her, and not because she let him, although she didn't seem that displeased by the outcome. Her smile broadened, as she stood on the very edge of a precipice, fearless and laughing and _alive_ , in a way he felt he'd never seen. And she opened his eyes to a whole new way of living. A way to use their skills to their advantage to survive, a way to feel free, alive and _powerful_.

She introduced him to the crew she ran with, and to stealing whatever they could. After all, she said, why shouldn't they? The people they stole from could afford it, and they needed the money. He fitted in surprisingly well, rounding off the edges of his accent, and none of them were very good at being still or quiet.

(He was only slightly surprised when he ended up in bed with Wren, and she was very forgiving of his lack of experience.)

He ran with that crew for years, as they moved around Europe, although people came and went, until Four and Wren were the most experienced members, and Wren seemed willing to let him take the lead.

And then Kyiv happened. And Wren went for the diamonds and her ticket out of thieving, to the life she'd sometimes mused about late at night with her head pillowed on his chest. The life he'd thought he'd be a part of. (He wasn't even sure he blamed her for not saving him.) 

And he fell and woke up dead.

And that's when his life _really_ began.


End file.
